Bring Me To Life
by sassysavvyo
Summary: Modern AU: "Now that I know what I'm without, you can't just leave me. Breathe into me and make me real. Bring me to life."
1. Chapter One

**Disclaimer: I do not own THG series or Bring Me To Life by Evanescence.**

* * *

Bring Me To Life

When _The New York Times_ writes about my sister, Primrose Everdeen, they talk about how she dances as graceful as a swan. They talk about her steady movements and how on a good night, it's like she's made entirely of some supernatural force. All of this is true but sitting in this red velvet seat, their words don't seem like enough. There isn't a single sound in the theater. No, for once the Lincoln Center is perfectly silent except for the sound of ballet shoes sliding across the floor.

I feel speechless but then again, I'm not surprised.

I take my eyes off the stage and watch everyone around me stare at my sister in astonishment. I turn my head back toward the stage and I feel a smile grace my lips. She freezes on the stage and I briefly see her chest heave with nerves. I don't think anyone else caught it but me. She doesn't smile but she looks delicate. Vulnerable even. I find myself on my feet along with the people around me. As we clap our hands, I watch her slowly bow her head down elegantly before the curtain closes. I let out a large grin as I reach down to gather up my peacoat and my bag. I slide in and out of people without much of a mutter. I make my way toward the lobby and I wait in the place where she knows I'll be.

I'm not sure how much times passes but soon the main lobby is quiet. There are a few people standing around and waiting but it's nothing like the commotion of bodies trying to exit the theater a few minutes ago. I shove my hands into my pockets as I hear a door close. I look at the end of the hall and see the blonde ballet bun of my sister as she walks toward me with a grin that she didn't allow herself to wear on stage. I smile at her as I push myself off the wall I was leaning on. "Can I have an autograph?"

Prim chuckles at me with an eye-roll as she makes her way before me. Her blue eyes twinkle with excitement and I can't help but find myself staring at the bags under them. "I'm surprised you made it."

I nodded curtly at this as I shove my hands deeper into my pockets as we walk toward the main doors. "They can survive without me for a few hours."

Prim snorts at this and she walks through the revolving door until she's out of sight. I follow closely behind as I push myself until I'm outside in the crisp cool air of the city I've always loved. New York City. The city where dreams were made and the city where I watched many of those dreams die. I watched Prim walk down the somewhat busy sidewalk without glancing at any of the faces she passes. It's strange to me how she can dance before a sold out theatre but she couldn't look in the eyes of someone she passed by on the sidewalk. She once told me that it was to intimate. I huffed and rolled my eyes at that answer.

We walked ten blocks without speaking to another. It wasn't eerie or anything, it was comfortable. We reached our familiar diner and I smiled inwardly at the warm heat of it as we stepped inside. The owner, Caesar Flickerman, nodded at us with a grin and tilted his head toward our usual booth. I slid in and watched Prim shrug off her peacoat. She wears a worn out blue sweater that I know has holes in it that she often slides her thumbs through. Most of her sweaters are like that. I take off my own peacoat and set it next to me as I watch Prim scan over the menu. I don't know why she bothers looking at it. Caesar doesn't even ask us for our orders anyway. Within minutes of sitting down, a piece of toast and a glass of water is placed before Prim, while a cup of coffee is placed in my direction.

"Anything new at work?"

I can't help but scowl as I let me fingers circle the rim of the cup before me. "I'm getting a new partner today." I look up and see Prim rip the crust off of the toast but her eyes are on me.

"Well, that's good, right?"

I love my job but I hate talking about it with Prim. I can't explain why but I do. I also know that once we start talking about my occupation, she won't drop the subject. "Yeah, I guess."

"Katniss, it's a lot safer out there with a partner."

Safer. If only she knew.

Nothing about my job was safe. Partner or not. I was attached once, to my first partner. We worked well together and we almost solved every case handed to us. It's not unheard of for detectives to get killed on the scene. It's just that it happened under my watch. It happened to a good person. It happened to someone kind and full of life when it was supposed to happen to me. That guilt would live with me forever and in fact, it still haunted my dreams. So now, I didn't get attached. Any partner I was assigned in the past year left within weeks of being with me. The longest anyone has lasted was three months. This partner would be like all the others. That was probably why I felt so annoyed.

I brought the cup of coffee toward my lips but before I allowed myself to consume the warm beverage, my phone started to loudly vibrate. I sighed and glanced at Prim before I reached over into my coat pocket and pulled it out. The words _work_ shined before me and I inwardly cringed. I flashed the phone to Prim before I denied the call. She knew the drill and I was more than grateful for that. I reached into my bag and threw a ten on the table as I watched Prim reach for her coat. I reached for mine and soon, we were back onto the cold street. "Do you have enough money for the bus?"

Prim shrugged as she shoved her hands into her pockets. "I'll just walk."

"No." I said sternly as I looked at Prim with an expression I knew wasn't comforting. It was the facial expression I wore at work. "It's getting late."

Prim let out a scowl of her own as she looked at me. "I've walked home later than this."

I shake my head at her. "No." I give her a look that I'm sure mirrors one that a mother would give. "Take the bus." I reach into my coat pocket and pull out a few crumbled bills. I hand them over and watch as Prim straightens them out until they are almost completely flat. She nods her head toward me and then nods toward the bus stop a few feet away from us. "Be safe."

"Always am."

I nod my head as I watch her walk toward the bus stop. I stand there for a few more minutes before I turn my head and walk away.

* * *

It smells like coffee. I've grown to love and hate the smell. I rub a hand over my eyes as I make my way toward my desk. Except, instead of the bare and empty one usually pushed against mine, there are two boxes piled on it. It caused a scowl to make it's way toward my face.

"How was the recital?"

I shrug off my coat and place it onto the back of my chair before I turn to face the dark brown bob of Johanna Mason. I was too annoyed over the fact of getting a new partner to be annoyed with her question. I might not be close to anyone beside my sister but Johanna was the closet thing to a friend I had. I muttered that it was good as I peeked over her head toward the closed office door a few feet away. "Did you meet him?"

Johanna smirks at my irritation. "Sure did."

I turn to her and narrow my eyes. Johanna Mason might be the closet thing I had to a friend but that didn't entirely mean she was friendly. She worked hard but played harder. I wouldn't mind being partnered up with her but we were too similar to work with for more than a case at a time. Before I can even fathom a question, she speaks again.

"You got yourself a crisp newbie."

Great.

Nothing irritated me more than working with someone who just graduated from the academy. They were so inexperienced that it drove me wild. I know it's biased to say this but I can't help but feel that way. They did everything straight out of the book because that's all they really knew and here I was stuck with one. "Are you-."

"Everdeen."

I turn my head as I watch Finnick Odair smirk broadly as he walked to the desk placed before Johanna's. They were partners and they were honestly to good together to ever be separated for a long period of time. Finnick was smart. He knew how to charm confessions out of people that it made our job look easy. On the other end of the spectrum, Johanna knew how to think like a criminal. She knew how to focus on not only how someone did something but why they had done it. They were a tough pair to work next to but damn was it inspiring.

I mumble a greeting to Finnick but before I can even try to ask Johanna my original question, the door opens and I watch the Deputy Inspector pop his head out and signal me to come with a smirk. I want to smack that smirk right off of his face. The Deputy Inspector, Haymitch Abernathy, is not only my boss but a royal pain in my ass. I can hear Finnick and Johanna snicker as I make my way toward the office. I can hear soft and steady laughter flow out of the room and for some reason, it causes my palms to sweat. That only irks me more.

I walk fully into the room and clear my throat. The unruly head of blonde seated before me, turns and I come face to face with what I assume to be my new partner. His hair is a discheevled and his eyes are a dull blue. I imagine that they are the kind of eyes that appear brighter than what they are do to what he wears. His face seems perfectly symmetrical and he still wears a smile as he stands up to offer me his hand. He's wearing a pair of dark blue jeans and a gray sweater with a black leather jacket placed overtop. I look behind him and see Haymitch mouth, _be nice_.

I would roll my eyes and snort but I owe this to Haymitch. Even if newbie wasn't going to last, Haymitch deserved this. I drove away at least seven worthy and experienced detectives. So, I stick out my hand and shake his quickly before I place my hand back at my side. I watch as Haymitch makes his way toward us.

"Peeta Mellark, this is..."

Before I can even fill in the blanks, the blonde headed boy speaks and he is still wearing that stupid smile.

"Katniss Everdeen. I've heard a lot about you."

For a brief second, I wonder what he's heard but I push that thought aside. I don't care about this kid. He will be here for a week, two tops before he leaves. So instead I nod and try not to roll my eyes as I turn toward Haymitch. "Is this the only reason you called me back in today?"

Haymitch lips form a tight smile but he's not looking at me. "I told you she was a charmer." Haymitch clears his throat and then turns toward me. "No, sweetheart. This isn't the only reason I called you back in." He shakes his head and makes his way toward his desk to look at the notes I'm almost positive that he scribbled onto the back of a Chinese menu. "Possible homicide downtown." He turns his attention back onto us. "I thought it would be a perfect bonding experience."

* * *

I'm growing restless of sitting in the squad car. Mostly because Peeta has the heat turned up so fucking high that I'm sure I'm sweating and because he is taking the longest way possible.

You can tell he's not from around here because of how he drives. He takes the roads the way a tourist would take them. He doesn't take any backroads and he barely takes his eyes off of the GPS placed between us. I would have offered to help but I didn't feel like it. I also didn't want to bruise his ego this early in the game.

After what seemed like forever, we finally pulled up to the corner of twelfth street. I mumble for him to park and get out of the car as soon as he shifts gears. I head toward the apartment which is now marked off with yellow crime scene tape. I reach into my pocket and show my badge as I make my way under it and head up the front stairs of the apartment building. I bit my lip as I watch people in uniform climb up and down the stairs. I make my way toward the third floor and step into the apartment.

"Took you long enough." I don't know which police officer mumbled this to me but I roll my eyes and I walk into the living room. Nothing appears to be out of the ordinary. In fact, the living room seems too ordinary. The walls are all bare but the dust squares on the walls are enough to tell me that they aren't supposed to be bare. I clear my throat as Peeta walks in. I roll my eyes for what seems like the hundredth time in the span of an hour. I glance out and watch as Peeta takes in the room just as quickly as I did. Our eyes lock for a moment but I quickly break it as I hear my name called from another room. I walk down a small hallway and I quickly make my way into what I assume to be the bedroom. My breath catches in my throat. There's a girl sprawled across the bed with her eyes still open. The dead body doesn't phase me. What phases me is the the heavy amount of blood scattered across the room. There's blood, _everywhere. _

"Holy shit."

I turn to see Peeta staring wide-eyed at the room. I clear my throat as I walk toward the medical examiner, Annie Cresta. Well, at least I think that's her name. She is pushing back a strand of hair as I make my way toward her. She stops writing her report as she glances at me. "I didn't think you'd make it."

Before I can talk, Peeta jumps in.

"That's my fault. I'm still getting used to the streets. Peeta Mellark." He smiles at her brightly. He shoves his hands into his pockets and turns with a small frown as he glances down at the unmoving body a few feet before us. "Do you mind filling us in?"

He thinks he's so charming. I can't help but inwardly cringe as I watch Annie's cheeks redden as she nods her head.

"Leven Rambin. I'm guessing mid-twenties. Her liver temp places time of death at least two hours ago." Annie clears her throat as she looks down at the body herself. "Despite the obvious broken bones and bleeding out, I don't have much else. I'll know more once I get her back to the lab."

I nod my head as I make my way toward the other side of the body. The position of the body is what starts to bother me. I look across the bed as I watch Peeta doing the same thing I am. His brow is knitted together and I can see his concentration as he glances down at the body. I am a bit surprised by how he's handling all this blood. My last partner couldn't even handle a paper-cut.

I glance back down at the body and feel my eyebrows knit together. It doesn't make sense to me. I am drawn out of thought as I see Peeta trying to mimic the position of the body. "What are you doing?" I not only surprised him by asking this question, I surprised myself.

Peeta's face stays browed in thought as he continues twisting his own arm. "He had to of moved her after she died."

"He?"

Peeta nods as he squats down and points to her neck. "It's snapped in half."

I snort at the comment. "I could snap someone's neck."

Peeta's face reddens a bit but he shakes his head. "The neck was snapped and she's bleeding out making her about a hundred precent dead weight and if she was moved into this position, it wouldn't be so.." He draws out the sentence and I remain motionless as I take in the body.

Peeta does have a point. It would be nearly impossible for a grown woman to snap another woman's neck after cutting her repeatedly and on top of that, carry her toward the bed to position her in such an inhuman type way. So our suspect is male and I can openly assume that he's strong with a temper. I look over the body once more before I turn my attention to Peeta. His face is twisted up in thought again. "What is it?"

Peeta is slouched down as he studies the body. Her eyes are a bright blue and her hair is curled perfectly around her. Her unblinking eyes cause my stomach to churn inwardly. "It doesn't make sense."

I turn my attention back onto Peeta. By the way he's looking at her, I know he's talking about her open eyes. "It's like she's looking.." I pause as I look up at the ceiling. Despite the amount of blood everywhere, my attention finally lands on the ceiling. I gulp as I take in the large snowflake painted above her in what looks to be her blood. I turn my head down and watch Peeta staring up at the snowflake. I see him swallow before he turns his attention onto me. I watch him gulp again as he gestures toward the wall behind me. I narrow my eyes before I allow myself to turn around. Unlike the delicate strokes of the snowflake on the ceiling, these words are splattered across the wall but I can make them out entirely: _Let the games begin_

It takes everything in me not to throw up.

"Are you thinking a serial?"

I glance back toward Peeta. His eyes are still narrowed as he takes in the bloody script but I can tell that his brain is moving by the way his eyes flicker around the room. I'm surprised that I want to know what's going on in his mind. "It's too early to tell." I mutter to him as I look back down at the body. It is too early to assume that but in the pit of my stomach, I hope that's not true. Serial killers are hard to decipher and even harder to catch. I walk out of the bedroom as I head back down the hallway. The rest of the apartment is spotless. There are a few pieces of clutter but it's a neat kind of clutter.

I wonder what's missing from the walls. I assume pictures of the victim but again, I can't assume. I make my way toward the front door and something catches my eye. A pair of gray flats with a red bow. I feel drawn to the shoes, which is strange until I realize I have those shoes.

Prim gave them to me for Christmas last year. I remember feeling awkward as I accepted the gift since they were shoes I would never see myself wearing. However, I did wear them and the strange part is that I almost wore them today. By the look of the shoes and their placement, I can tell that the victim had worn them prior to her death. I'm pulled from my thoughts when I hear someone clearing their throat behind me. I turn and see Peeta with his hands shoved into this pockets.

"Ready?"

I nod without a word. All I can think about are the shoes.

* * *

The car is ridiculously hot again. I don't even bother trying to say anything because I don't have the patience or the desire to strike up a conversation with Peeta. He's humming along to a song on the radio that I haven't heard. His tone is off but he doesn't seem to care.

I'm counting the streetlights as we drive back to the precinct so I can pass the time. The quicker I can get out of this car and think about our new case, the better.

"Are you hungry?"

I whip my head around toward him but I don't say anything. He's glancing at me as he starts to slow down for the upcoming red light before us. This is when I notice a few things about him that I didn't notice when I first saw him. There's a small scar from his ear that disappears underneath his jacket. His smile droops slightly on the left side and his nose is covered in what I assume to be freckles. His skin is pale and I find myself wondering if he has anymore scars. "No. I'm fine." He makes a humph sound but I turn my head back out toward the window.

"I can't believe it's almost midnight."

I can. My eyes are droopy and my stomach is a bit empty. All I had to eat today was an apple and coffee. Due to this up and coming case, I know I won't be sleeping for a few more hours. There's a report to file, a case to build and reporters to answer too. I reach into my pocket and notice I have a few missed messages from Prim. I quickly tell her that I won't be home for awhile and that she shouldn't wait up. She replies as soon as I send the message: _Ok. Be safe._

The word safe starts to cause something within me to stir. I push my phone back into my jacket pocket and sigh. I think about the shoes. I don't know why they bother me so much but they do. I bit my lip and I cast my eyes back out of the car to count streetlights again. I get to seven before Peeta speaks again.

"You're not much of a talker."

I think about how charming he was to Annie less than an hour ago. He's good with words and he knows it. "I don't have much to say."

He snorts at this as he comes up to another red light. "Well, if we're going to be partners, we're going to have to talk to each other."

This time, I snort at his reply. I turn in my seat and look at him. "I'm not here to make friends. I'm here to do my job."

"I didn't say anything about making friends, Katniss."

The way he says my name catches me off guard. It makes my insides feel something that I haven't quite felt before and it makes it hard to even come up with an idea as to why. I shake my head and reach for the heating console. "It's fucking hot in here."

I think this eases the tension because Peeta laughs. "Sorry. I hate the cold."

I say the nicest thing I can muster up. "Welcome to the big apple, Mellark."

* * *

I'm on my second cup of coffee by the time we've drawn up an evidence board. We're in the meeting room with a few crime scene photos and a photo of the victim prior to her death. Leven Rambin, otherwise known as Glimmer. She was notoriously known for working the streets of the Upper East Side. It's not uncommon to have prostitutes assaulted or even murdered in New York but it's uncommon to have them murdered in such a way that she was.

"Are we sure it's not a night in paradise gone bad?" I turn to see Finnick sitting back in his chair as he presses his lips together in a fine line. Johanna is starting to put together a time-line on the dry-erase board that we're also using.

"I don't think so." Peeta says this with a voice that's strong and clear. An hour ago, him and Finnick hit it off as they went to get us all coffee. Finnick joked that he wished Peeta was his new partner. Johanna rolled her eyes and I felt that strange sensation in my stomach again. "He took the time to take down every photo in her apartment and the way his positioned her body-." Peeta pauses as he shakes his head. "This was planned out."

I agree with that. I scan the photos in front of me and sigh slightly as I narrow my eyes at them. I run my hand over the photo with the snowflake on the ceiling and I feel my breath catch in my throat. The snowflake was so delicately done that in the photograph I can see the excessive amounts of detail. It seems almost angelic even though it's a dark crimson red instead of white. I continue to run my hand along the picture as I feel Johanna take the seat next to me.

"Let the games begin." I turn to Johanna and watch as Peeta and Finnick do the same. "What does that mean?"

I lift my hand from the photo. "Exactly what it says." I clear my throat as I keep my eyes on Johanna. "This is just the beginning."

When _The New York Times _writes about the murder on twelfth street for tomorrow morning, they won't write about the gracefulness of the body or how much blood covered the walls. No, they'll shameless write about Leven Rambin's life and somehow try to make her seem like a good samaritan despite her lifestyle. They'll try and write calming words and make the NYPD look like heroes. All of which might be true but at the end of the day, _The New York Times _will try it's hardest to beat around the fact that their beloved city has a new serial killer on it's hands and he's only getting started.


	2. Chapter Two

**The amount of feedback I've gotten is phenomenal. Thanks for all who reviewed/favored and followed :) **

* * *

My dreams are usually about my childhood.

I see my mother happy and I see Prim actually eating. I see a reflection of a girl who I used to be. I see a happy smiling family. I consider this a nightmare. I consider this my own personal hell.

My eyes are blinking heavily as I lay awake in bed. I glance at the small clock at my bedside and see it's a little after nine. I got home around five and I have to get up within the next hour. I still lay in bed as I think.

Shoes.

Death.

Snowflakes.

Blood.

I'm used to the lack of sleeping. I'm always tired and no amount of sleep ever rids me of that.

With a yawn, I sit up slowly and swing my legs so that my feet land softly on the cold hardwood floor. My bedroom is average sized. My double sized mattress is tucked into the corner of the room and a large desk takes up the opposite wall. The only new thing in my room is my Macintosh computer that took me three years to save up for. I think about checking emails but the time registers in my brain. I make my way out of the room and toward the door at the end of the hall. I give three soft knocks before I open the door and walk into the room.

Prim's room is vastly different than mine. She has posters of musicians and famous dancers along her walls. She has a small record player stashed in the corner and she has clothes everywhere. I stopped trying to get her to clean her room about five years ago.

I clear my throat as I make my way to a spot before her bed.

"Ugh, go away."

I bite back a smile as I reach my hands out and grasp the purple comforter in my hands. In one swift movement I tug it off the sleeping form and watch as it falls before me.

Prim whimpers and digs her head deeper into her pillow.

I jump onto the end of her bed and shake her leg. "Time to wake up."

Prim rolls onto her back and looks at me with squinted eyes. Her blues eyes over-shine my dark gray ones. We are exact opposites but maybe that's why we work so well together. Prim is kind and soft. I'm edgy and closed-off. Well, it's not perfect but it's something.

"What time is it?"

I shrug as I pick at the gray sheet beneath me. "Nine-thirty or so." Prim groans in response.

Prim is a sophomore at Juilliard. It was always a dream of hers and a few years ago, I didn't think she would be able to attend. Prim is a recovering anorexic. Some days are better than other's but I told her that if she fell back into it, I would pull her from the dance program. Since it was her dream, she tried her hardest. I still find her counting calories from time to time but she's trying to be better about it.

"Do you have a studio today?"

Prim nods her head and pushes her blonde bangs off of her face. "Not until three but I have to write a paper about the recital." She stretches and slowly sits up with a small yawn. "When did you get home?"

I thought about last night again before I spoke. We had created an entire time-line in the span of three hours. We still have to fill in the blanks but we had most of it done. The medical examiner, Annie (which really is her name), called to tell us she finished her report and that we could come by later and get her information and statements. I'm supposed to meet Peeta there in an hour.

Peeta Mellark.

His name caused my skin to crawl and my eyes to roll. He was so cocky. He was over the top. He was new. He was highly unexperienced.

I'm drawn out of my thoughts when I see a hand waving in front of my face. "Sorry, what?"

Prim shakes her head as she yawns again. "When did you get home?"

"Late." I mumble as I bring my hands toward the end of my braid.

I let out a small sigh before I slowly tear myself off of the bed. I mutter for Prim to get up once more before I make my way out of her room and down the hall toward the kitchen. I automatically start the coffee as I bite into an apple that has been sitting on the counter. By the bitter taste, I realize I need to go grocery shopping soon.

I let out a yelp when I suddenly turn around and see Prim holding up her iPad. It's an article about what happened last night. I bite my lip.

"Is this your new case?" I nod. "Is this your new partner?" I watch her zoom in on the perfect face of Peeta Mellark and nod. "He's so cute, Katniss!" I don't nod.

I brush off her rambling as I reach into the fridge and pull out a carton of eggs and butter. She's reading the article aloud to me as I start the stove and I know immediately that Effie Trinket has written the article. Effie is one of those reporters that you learn to deal with. Mostly because she's part scatter brained and part leech.

As Prim rambles on and the eggs sizzle in the pan, I glance at the time. Nine-forty-four. I curse to myself. I won't have enough time to shower but I don't really care.

I reach above me for a plate and happily place the scrambled eggs onto it before I slide it back over toward Prim. She's too caught up in the article to even fight me on the eggs. I'm grateful for that.

I reach around and pour myself a cup of coffee in the travel mug Prim made me when she was twelve. Life was hard then. Life is hard now. Life is just hard.

I watch Prim eat half of the eggs I made. I won't complain since it's more than what she usually eats. I eat the rest of the eggs quickly before I make my way toward my room.

I change my worn out pajamas for a pair of blue jeans, a gray sweater and a leather jacket. To top it off, I put on a pair of worn out boots. I redo my braid and leave the room without much of a glance at myself.

I head back into the small kitchen and see Prim staring absently at her iPad. I clear my throat and watch her turn around. "I'll see you later."

Prim narrows her eyes as she takes in my outfit. "Is that what you're wearing?"

I glance down and look at myself before I look up at Prim with an expression which I'm sure resembles confusion. Prim never really cares about what I wear and if she does, she knows that I don't care. So I look at her and change my expression from confusion to unexpressive. "Yeah, why?"

Prim shrugs her shoulders and reaches up to let her long blonde hair flow down her back. "Did you know Peeta graduated first from the academy in California?"

I didn't. "How do you know that?"

Prim lifts up her iPad and waves it before me. I guess she's been reading up on my new partner. I don't know why she even bothers. I give Peeta Mellark another week. Two tops.

"You're unbelievable and I'm leaving." I shake my head and I can't deny the small grin on my face as I grab my coffee mug and head toward the door. I come to a halt when I hear Prim call out my name. She comes toward me with a woolen scarf and a smile. She wraps the scarf around my neck without a word and then makes her way back to her room. I smile and walk out the door.

* * *

Leven Rambin died from force trauma on the back of the skull and from bleeding out from the incisions made on her lower abdomen and back. The object used to break her skull is unknown but once our suspect whacked her in the back of the head, he snapped her neck. The part that troubled me most was that the suspect repeatedly stabbed her long after her time of death.

I glance down at her body and see all traces of blood and make-up washed away from her face. Leven Rambin was twenty-six. The same age as me. She looks so vulnerable laying flat on this medical table. She looks so small.

"Anything out of the ordinary?"

I glance at Peeta who's standing across from me. Everything about this is out of the ordinary but I keep my mouth shut. I turn my head and see Annie nod her head with a light blush on her cheeks. She turns Leven on her side and lowers the white sheet so we can see more clearly.

Like on the ceiling, Leven has a snowflake carved into her skin. I speak aloud without thinking. "He branded her."

Peeta nods his head and writes something in this stupid book he's been carrying around. The book looks worn but he holds it up happily and rarely looks up from it as he speaks. I jotted down a few things in my own spiral notebook but Peeta looks like stenographer. Once he finishes whatever he's doing, he looks at Annie with a small smile and says, "Let us know if you find anything else."

I take that as our cue to leave. Not that I really mind. Morgue's freak me out.

I watch Peeta shove his book into his coat pocket and with a final thanks to Annie, I follow him out of the room and soon out of the building. Once we step onto the cold side-walk, Peeta reaches back into his coat pocket and pulls out a pack of cigarettes. He pulls out a cigarette and places it between his lips. I watch the small red light of flame ignite the stick. I turn away.

"Horrible habit." Peeta says after a few minutes. I turn my head and watch him blow out a spew of smoke. "I usually don't crave one unless I'm stressed."

He's stressed? Already?

Peeta lets out a laugh and I realize that I spoke this aloud. "I'm trying to find an apartment. It's not as easy as I thought it would be."

I glance down at my feet as we walk. It's so cold outside and I realize I'm more than grateful for the scarf Prim gave me. The cold winds of New York are something that never fails to make me shiver all the way to my bones.

Peeta is wearing a thicker jacket than he wore yesterday. He's not as dense as I thought. Well, I don't really know what I think about him yet. I don't want to allow myself to think anything of him because that would cause me to grow attached. That would cause me to care. That would cause me to get hurt again.

I don't want to think about anything else except for this case. Leven Rambin deserves that.

Peeta and I are about to reach the front doors of our precinct but instead of walking in, he continues walking straight. I halt and let out a breath. "What are you doing?" He doesn't answer me. It makes me irritated. "Mellark, I asked you a question!"

Peeta turns to me and flicks the cigarette bud onto the street. He nods his head toward the squad car and makes his way toward the driver's side. I stand still for a moment before I shake my head and walk toward the car. With a scowl, I open the door and plop myself down.

Peeta turns the car on and I'm blasted will cold air. He makes no effort to turn the heater down but turns the music on. A song I've heard Prim play before comes into my ears.

I don't speak as I reach behind me and fasten my seatbelt on. After that, Peeta pulls away from the curb and drives down the street.

"Are you going to ask me where we're going?"

I don't make an effort to talk.

Peeta lets out a breath as he turns down sixth street. "Finnick said you-."

"Finnick doesn't know me." I'm getting more irritated and I'm wishing that I didn't get into the car.

"What's your deal? I didn't do anything to you. I'm trying to be patient with you but it's really fucking hard when you keep judging everything I do."

Well, I didn't expect that. I scowl in my seat as I look out the window. For once in my life, I'm not uttering a word because I have no clue on what to say. He has a point but then again he doesn't. He doesn't know me but I also don't know him.

The rest of the car ride is silent.

* * *

As we walk around Leven Rambin's apartment, I notice that her apartment is a lot similar to the apartment I share with Prim. I see things that I hadn't noticed last night. Like the set table. The dirty laundry. The jar labeled _someday_ with loose change at the bottom. The walls are still bare and I can't put together why our suspect took the pictures from them.

I make my way to the bedroom. All the blood is gone. The message on the wall and the snowflake on the ceiling are now made of nails and string. It's weird how quickly a murder scene can be cleaned up. How all traces of Leven Rambin are gone forever.

I make my way toward her closet. I slowly pull it open and watch as outfits of all shapes and sizes come into view. I might not understand why she chose the lifestyle she did but she was still a woman. She was still someone.

"Katniss."

I turn my head and see Peeta standing in the doorway. He flicks his head for me to follow and I do. I shove my hands into my pockets as I make my way toward the table in the kitchen. It's set for two.

"Do you think she invited him in?"

I bit the inside of my mouth as I walk around the table. It appears that way but that doesn't make sense to me. The way she was murdered, even though it was personal, couldn't have been by the hands of someone she invited over for a late night feast. "I don't think so."

"Well, what do you think?"

What did I think? It takes me awhile to place things together and I can tell that Peeta is a fast worker. I like to take my time. I don't want to leave anything out.

I circle the table a few more times before I stop and stare at speaking, I make my way toward the fridge. I open the door and come face to face with a pizza box and a box of baking soda. I move quickly toward the cabinets. There is one set of plates but it doesn't match the plates sitting on the table. I quickly make my way back toward the table and lift up a plate. There's a snowflake painted on the bottom. I set it back down and look at Peeta. "We need an evidence bag."

Peeta's eyes are wide as he nods. He makes his way toward the hallway where a few policemen and crime scene investigators are. I wait a total of three minutes before he return again with two pairs of gloves and evidence bags. We make a quick work of securely placing everything into the bags before we call for the crime scene investigators to take them back to the lab for evidence.

I let out a small sigh as I wipe at my brow.

"How did you know they weren't hers?"

I turn to look at Peeta. I think about our conversation in the car and I swallow my pride. "I have the same set of plates. Those-." I gesture toward the table. "were not from Target."

Peeta makes a face as he nods. "What do you think the snowflake is about?"

I've thought about this a lot since last night. A snowflake is delicate. So full of innocence. A snowflake is light and brings a promise to a young child on the night before Christmas. A snowflake is pure. I don't think any of these things are what our suspect had in mind. Maybe he was going for the irony of it.

I bite my lip as I look at Peeta. "Do you think it's his signature?"

Peeta seems taken back by my question. Not because of the subject of the question but because I'm the one asking it and I'm asking for his input. He brings a hand to his hair and give it a light pull before speaking. "It would make sense." He clears his throat and drops his hand from his hair. "He branded her with it because.."

"He wants to be the dominant." I finish with a soft whisper as I watch Peeta pull out his book to write everything we've said. At least I think that's what he's doing.

I watch Peeta walk around the small apartment with his book in his hands. I glance for longer than a second and see that beside writing, he's drawn a few things. I see the plates from the table and I see a snowflake drawn with labels around them. I look away as I shove my hands into my pockets.

"You look like you have an idea."

I turn to him and watch as he closes the book and shoves it into his pocket like he had earlier. I nod my head. "I have a hunch."

Peeta smiles at that. I mean a real smile. His smile could reach his eyes if he let it. Despite the slight droop of his grin, it's perfect. I even have to make myself look at the wall behind him so I don't stare at it. "I'll take a hunch."

And we do.

* * *

I shove my hands deeper into my pockets as we walk aimlessly through Central Park. I used to take Prim to Strawberry Fields when we were younger. She liked the flowers there and she liked reading next to the pond there.

Central Park is different now though. Women are told not to travel through the park alone after dark. It shouldn't be like that. Well, at least in my opinion. A woman shouldn't have to fear her life when she's walking in a park.

Peeta is smoking again. The smell is strangely intoxicating.

Once we left the apartment, Peeta told me I could forever be in charge of temperature in the car. I didn't say anything in return but I had smiled at him and that seemed like enough.

"I've always dreamed about this place." Peeta says in amazement as we continue to walk through the park. "I've read about it and I've seen pictures but nothing compares to this."

I wasn't ever phased by the city. I guess it was because I've lived in New York City my whole life. I was a city girl in every sense of the term. I knew street talk. I knew back-roads. I knew not to take the subway anytime around a holiday. I knew a lot about this city and for that, I loved it more.

Once I spot my target, I pick up the pace. Peeta senses this because he walks quicker beside me even though he has no idea what we're doing. We come across a bridge overpass and my target spots me back. I watch the set of eyes flicker with fear before they turn and sprint away from me.

I quickly pick up my pace and Peeta does too. Despite being a stress smoker, the boy is remarkably fast. He easily runs a step ahead of me and pulls the boy to the ground as I try to regain my breath.

"Get that fucking cunt away from me!"

"Hey." Peeta pushes the body into the ground and I see his face twist up in anger. "Enough of that." He pulls the body up and off the ground. The dark-skinned boy lashes against Peeta for a moment but Peeta's grip tightens and the boy stands still.

Then he spits in my direction.

I'm not sure if this pisses off Peeta or not but his grip tightens even more and I see the boy wince slightly at the pressure. "Thresh." I mumble softly as I cross my arms. His real name is Theodore Collins but his street name was Thresh. I've busted Thresh for a few things over the past two years. Mostly drug possession and some accounts of assault and battery.

"I ain't doin' anything wrong." Thresh belts as he struggles against Peeta's strong grip.

I nod my head as I cross my arms. "I just need your help."

Peeta looks at me and I nod at him. He let's go of Thresh and I watch as Thresh turns to glare at Peeta as he mumbles something under his breath. He then turns his attention onto me with a sour expression. Peeta's jaw clenches into a straight line.

I reach into my pocket and pull out a decent photo of Leven. I hold it up so Thresh can get a good look at the photo. "Have you seen this girl before?"

Thresh snatches the photo from my hands and I watch Peeta's jaw the entire time.

"Glimmer." Thresh says as he stares at the photo. "I know her, yeah."

I cross my arms as I inhale the cold air. "When did you last see her?"

Thresh looks down at the photo for another moment before he looks up at me. "She's not.." He lets the words fall from his lips even though I can tell he knows the answer. "She was one of the good ones."

Before I can muster up anything, Peeta asks, "What do you mean?"

Thresh glances at Peeta for a moment before he glances back down at the photo with a sad smile. "She was tryin' to get outta the business. She was signed up to take classes at NYU in the spring." Thresh shakes his head as he hands the photo back in my direction. "I ugh- I last saw her yesterday."

My ears perk up and I see Peeta pull out his book. "When?"

Thresh scratches the back of his head. "Last night 'round seven or so."

"Where?" Peeta asks as he keeps his eyes on his book. By the strokes he's making, I know he's not writing. I wonder if he's drawing Thresh.

Thresh scratches the back of his head. "Over there." He points toward the fountain a few feet away. "She was out of breath from runnin' or somethin'."

"Was she with anyone?"

Thresh shakes his head at my question as he looks at me dead in the eyes. "Whatever she was runnin' from, she was runnin' fast."

* * *

Peeta and I finally get back to the precinct around four or so. I worked on the written report and Peeta worked on the timeline in the meeting room with Finnick and Johanna. I send a message to Prim and make sure she went to class. I feel less stressed when she sends a picture of herself in the dance studio.

It's been Prim and I for as long as I can remember. We never knew our father and our mother took her own life when I was eighteen and Prim was eleven. I took custody of her and I helped raise her. Even though I pretty much had already raised her from her birth until this very moment.

I bite the inside of my mouth as I glance toward the meeting room and see the three of them laughing as they write things on the board. It seemed so easy to be friends with them. Well, maybe it was just easy for them to be friends with each other. I let out a breath as I turned back to my report. I file everything from Leven's autopsy report to my non-professional interview with Thresh. I sign my name and the date before sitting back in my chair and letting out a breath.

I closed my eyes and counted to ten. Something I've always done. I'm cut off once I reach six by someone tapping their hands against my desk. I open my eyes and see Peeta make his way toward the desk across from mine. I narrow my eyes as I watch him sit across from me. "Are you hungry?"

Not really but I feel like this kid was always hungry.

"I'm good."

Peeta looks at me hard for a moment as he brings his left leg up so his ankle rests against his knee. "You're like skin and bones, Everdeen. You should eat more."

I narrow my eyes. "I eat just fine." I wanted to tell him that it's hard to afford food when you're paying for your sister to achieve her dream but I don't. I do eat alright though. I've just been stressed the past few days that I haven't been hungry.

Peeta reaches into his desk and pulls out a Tupperware container. I eye him curiously as he takes the lid off and pulls bread out of the container. He happily bites into it and grins at me. "I'm starving."

"What is that?"

Peeta finishes biting into whatever he has before he speaks again. "A cheese bun."

"A cheese bun?" I ask as I cross my arms and lower my eyes at him.

"Yep. Made them myself." He pulls out another one but instead of eating it, it holds it out to me. I let out a breath and debate if I should take it or not. However, the grumbles in my stomach and the hunger I start to feel takes over and before I know it, I'm biting into a cheese bun.

The taste is strong and nothing like I've ever had. There are so many flavors occurring that my brain doesn't know which to focus on but I don't really care because the cheese bun is that good.

I don't want to tell him they are that good but when he looks at me as asks, "Do you like it?"

I tell him, "Very much so."

* * *

It's around eight o'clock when we officially have all the information on Leven Rambin that we could have. We know that two days before her murder, she was at the dentist and a week before that, she applied for a credit card. We know that she was last seen by Theodore Collins in Central Park around seven o'clock and she died a mere hour or so after that.

Beside the timeline we have set up, we have another board that Johanna made up for our suspect. A few words are scattered across it. Words like aggressive, possessive, medical experience and threatening are written before me. Johanna also tacked up photos of the snowflakes and his message from the wall.

Let the games begin.

It makes me stomach churn when I look at it. The more I look at it, the more I feel sick to my stomach. This is a game to him. This is all a game.

"Katniss."

I turn my head and watch as Johanna shrugs on her jacket. I didn't even notice anyone leave the room. I stand up and blink my eyes. "What's up?"

Johanna lets out a soft laugh as she starts to button up her jacket. "I'm headed to District for drinks. You in?"

District is a bar a few blocks away. It wasn't anything special but everyone seemed to like going there. I usually declined the offer. I didn't care for drinking and I usually wanted to get home to Prim after work. However, Prim was going out with her friends to see a movie and I didn't have anything better to do.

I don't think I've ever seen Johanna smile so big.

We walked to District and I was surprised by the happy buzz that the building gave off. We walk in and I'm automatically greeted with the smell of alcohol. My eyes wander around the space but Johanna pushes me toward a booth. She shoves me into the seat and I look across the table and see Peeta and Finnick grinning dumbly. More like grinning drunkenly. I wonder how long I spent in the meeting room alone.

Johanna glances at us with a large smile and announces that she'll get a round of drinks. Finnick happily offers to help her.

Leaving me and Peeta.

Leaving me and a drunk Peeta.

I glance at him only to find him already staring at me. I look down at the table and begin tapping my fingers against it.

"You're so uptight."

"Excuse me?"

Peeta leans against the table and his eyes are wide. "I'm just saying you're always so- I don't know. I can't figure you out."

I don't want you to figure me out. I would have said this aloud but the words don't even make it to the roof of my mouth. We stare at each other for what seems like entirety and I'm surprised that I don't get the uncomfortable feeling that I usually get. Instead, something else sets into my stomach. A foreign feeling that I haven't felt in years. It makes me squirm in my seat.

The moment is broken when Finnick and Johanna make their way back to the table. They happily down a few shots and Johanna drinks mine without complaining.

After some giggles and swearing, Finnick picks out two girls across from us at the bar. He jabs Peeta in the ribs and makes his way toward them.

Peeta looks at me for a moment before he slides out of the booth and makes his way next to Finnick.

All I can do is stare.


End file.
